An Empty Space
by merrows
Summary: One story is over, but life goes on whether we fully realize it or not. A brief post-film oneshot.


**Author's Note: **This was originally posted on my old account, but as I have removed everything from that profile I thought that I'd go ahead and repost it on my new one.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dead Poets Society.

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><p><strong>An Empty Space<strong>

"We lead out lives, and when they end, sometimes we leave a little of ourselves behind. Sometimes we leave money, a painting, sometimes a kind word. And sometimes, we leave an empty space."

- George Lass, _Dead Like Me_

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><p>It was Charlie who found him; he had managed to wander almost to the edge of Welton's grounds and into the woods, wearing only a coat and slippers over his pajamas with shaking fingers numb from the cold and his hair covered in frost. He had taken his friend by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet from his place against the hard bark of a tree, all the while trying to comfort him as they made their way back to the school, saying softly, "Come on, Todd, let's go. Come on, it's too cold out here for you now."<p>

He had led him back to the entrance where the other boys were waiting, and they had all made sure that he was able to make it back up to the room that he would now share with no one. They wanted to stay with him, make sure he was all right, but Todd wanted to be alone then; for him, grief was not something he shared well.

Charlie was the last to leave and he had touched Todd's shoulder briefly before he did, trying his best to offer what reassurance he could muster. It was an odd thing to see, the boisterous and rebellious Charlie Dalton now sullen and tired as he tried his best to give whatever he could, but Todd tried to show he appreciated it, especially as it was obvious that the other boy needed the words and comfort just as much.

Neil's bed was still dressed and made across from his at the time, but he knew that that soon would change, and he was right: by the next day it was stripped bare and all of Neil's possessions were collected and boxed away. By whom, though, Todd didn't know, as he had taken to submerging himself in lone walks around the school and the grounds and had been sure not to be present when it happened. Maybe it was Dr. Hager, maybe the others had offered, or maybe even Neil's parents if they had managed to gather the strength.

The thought of it had left an odd taste in his mouth, almost like bitterness and resentment mingled together and left out in the snow to waste away. There were so many things inside of him then: anger and raw sorrow merged and brewed inside of him almost like a storm, but the only thing that he could truly feel was the chill of the winter air as it touched his skin as he wandered through the trees, no longer knowing what to do with himself.

Soon enough everything else had come crashing down: Charlie was expelled, Mr. Keating was to be forced out, and it felt as though all of the empty spaces were breeding, multiplying, and that eventually there would be nothing left at all.

On the day that Mr. Keating was to leave, Todd couldn't contain himself anymore; what was happening was an injustice: Neil's death, the group being forced to lay the blame at their teacher's door, and Mr. Keating being fired for doing nothing more than helping them to find a voice, and in the end that was exactly what Todd had always been searching for.

_Find a voice_, his thoughts went as he had listened to the sound of Mr. Keating's slowly fading footsteps. Find a voice before it's too late. If he couldn't stop it, then he could at least let the truth be known. He could do it for Neil, do what he couldn't, and find the courage to speak up for what was and wasn't right.

It was that thought that had forced the words from his mouth and pushed him to stand from his chair, and it had been the thought of his fallen friend and his newfound courage that kept him there. His nerves had buzzed and his breathing had been unsteady, but he stayed on his feet regardless because he knew it was right then and even years afterward he would know it still.

They had been punished for it, all of them, but it had made them closer instead of tearing them apart and they were proud of what they'd done, and, once they'd managed to get a hold of him at a school located just over an hour away, Charlie was too. He had screamed revolution into the phone so loudly that Knox had been forced to pull it away from his ear with a grumble of pain, and he said that he wished he could've seen Nolan's smarmy face when he realized that his control was slipping away.

It went on like that until they had all graduated and gone onto university and to their own chosen or forced career paths, but they made sure to always do everything they could to keep in contact; they would meet in a café or diner for coffee or dinner on their off days, call each other every few weeks or months, and sometimes they'd even meet to see a play at Henley Hall when they'd put one on.

They'd discuss their lives, their classes, their families, and sometimes, when something reminded them of him so much that they couldn't let it go, they'd talk about Neil: where he'd be now, if he'd be married or not, what parts he would have loved to be able to play, whether he would have settled in New York or maybe even London, and what it would be like if he was sitting there beside them sharing in the conversation.

It was a rare thing for them to discuss him, not because they wanted to forget him or because of the usual awkward silences that would follow every time, but because they were afraid to; it made his absence clearer, more dense and real, and the fact that the space that he'd once occupied in their lives could never be completely filled ever again left them with an empty feeling.

They would try to cover it up as best they could during those times with the clearing of throats and half-hearted laughter, but it would never truly go back to the way that it had been. After all, there is no going back and the past cannot be altered; there is only now, and there is no use in faded dreams or moments long since passed.

The years would go by and old age would take the place of youth, some of them would marry and some of them wouldn't, some of them would follow their dreams and some of them would leave them behind, and soon enough they would all follow their friend and the others who had gone long ago into the ground and daisy fields.

Until that moment, however, they would continue doing what they'd always done and would carry on with the lives that they had been given, and, hopefully, when all was said and done, one day the empty space wouldn't be so empty anymore.


End file.
